Love Him To Pieces... :) Shangy!
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Through no fault of my own we suddenly became an
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*~* Have a Super Blessed, Safe and Happy Father's Day Weekend! :)
>-->HOT Off The 'Shangy' Press :)
This too hot to handle one comes from our friend Karen, So
adorable I couldn't resist sharing it with you all. Check
it out here...
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ejm |__=|- O--(_) `.______.' \ O=======(__)
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(/(|(\
>MARTHA STEWART, HE IS NOT
by Shelley Madden
The satellite dish had stood in my father's yard over twenty
years.
It watched over us kids growing up, moving out to explore the
world and start families of our own.
In it's day, it was the landmark of our neighborhood, shining
aluminum pointing into space, as it cupped the sky, casting a giant
shadow beneath its twelve foot expanse. Passerbys would slow to
admire its massive size, many would stop for closer inspection.
We would gather in front of the TV, my younger brother flipping
through the channels as the dish groaned and turned outside,
searching through space for a new signal. We were infatuated with TV
land, thousands of channels awaited us, if we could only figure out
what buttons to push when.
Too soon, it was outdated, replaced by new inventions. It was
quickly forgotten, where it silently stood representing a bygone era.
It collected leaves in the fall, caught snow in the winter. It rose
proud in the spring storms, then lay quiet in the summer heat.
Divorce and retirement found dad living alone in his old house,
passing time on many projects. During his daily excursions he could
be found poking around in our small town's community dumpster, or
behind the car wash, looking for Objects d'Art which only he could
breathe life into once again. His garage was soon brimming with
other's castoffs -- broken, unwanted things waiting for their chance
to become useful once again.
The satellite dish loomed over my father and his projects, as he
took parts off broken lawn mowers, using them to bring life to
another old mower. It waited patiently in the background watching
him fix old clocks, or rebuild a broken rocking horse he had brought
home. It stood silently while he crafted an old headboard into a
bookcase. He tinkered day and night, creating things with his
skilled hands, hands never slowed by time or age. As soon as he
finished one creation, he would begin another.
One summer day, I came to visit, but something was missing from
the yard.
The satellite dish was gone. In its wake was a large hole,
followed by drag marks slicing across the lawn. The yard now looked
oddly barren, reminding me of a Thanksgiving table missing its
centerpiece. I could almost feel my memories fade as I gazed
solemnly at the bare spot in front of me.
I followed the path of churned dirt and crushed grass around the
side of the house, to the back yard. My mother would have had a fit
if she were still here and seen the mess dad had made.
There it was.
A giant spacecraft had crashed in the backyard. The neighbors
would surely think my father had gone mad. I could see myself
calling the old folks home for a tour in the very near future. I
took a closer look, trying to understand what I was looking at.
Framed by the blue sky and the old pecan tree, stood the
satellite dish, reigning in new found glory, standing proudly with a
new purpose.
Never at a loss for creativity, never at a loss for time, my
father had welded an eight foot pole into the center of the inverted
dish. It was now a giant upside down bowl. He then cemented it into
the ground upright, creating what was perhaps the world's largest
patio umbrella!
He stood beaming beneath, BBQ tools and grill at the ready. He
had set in its shadow his old patio chair, and a small table. He had
what no man in town had, perhaps what no man in the state had -- an
indestructible relic of days gone by given new meaning once again by
his skilled hands.
An old memory was now ready for new memories. And he had done it
alone.
The former satellite-dish-now-turned-patio umbrella was once
again watching over us. As time passed, grandchildren and
great-grandchildren would play below, as if under the petals of a
giant flower protecting its nectar. It sheltered us against the sun,
protected us from the rain. It gave new meaning to holidays and
birthday parties. Folks continue to stop and gaze at it in awed
silence.
Dad's masterpiece now proudly bears the colors of his alma
mater, and tiny white lights are laced around its broad rim -- lights
which cast a warm, almost other-worldly-tin-foil glow around my
father as he sits quietly beneath, reading a book, perhaps thinking
of days gone by, or maybe even planning his next invention.
For which I patiently await.
-- Shelley Madden
__________________________________________________
Shelley is a freelance and short story writer, who enjoys raising
horses and poultry. She is a native of Wise County, Texas.
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>LOVE HIM TO PIECES
by Ilona McEachern
If asked to recall something funny that happened in my
childhood, my memories would often include my father.
When very young, I remember playing "horsey." I would sit on
dad's back with a skipping rope that he would hold in his teeth as
the reins. I would shout, "Giddy-up!" and he would crawl around on
the floor, neighing and pretending to try to buck me off.
If boredom set in, dad would sit patiently in his armchair while
I attempted to beautify him by creating new hairdos to make him look
as silly as possible. While enjoying a family day of swimming at Nym
Lake, dad would tirelessly throw me again and again over his head and
into the water at the beach.
One cold wintry day in Ontario, my parents decided to visit some
friends who lived at a logging camp. It was about a 45-minute drive
down a snow covered gravel road. My two older sisters and brother
sat in the back of our old gray Studebaker, while I squeezed into the
front between my parents. Whenever we ascended a steep hill, dad
told me to put my hands on the dash to help "push" the car up the
hill.
"Come on! Push, Ilona! Push harder!" But while trying to
humor me, dad became slightly distracted and slid into a snow bank.
My brother Tim, and my dad, would take the shovels out of the
trunk and dig us out. All would be quiet until the next hill, and he
would be coaxing me to push again. And once again we'd slid into
another snow bank!
That was just too much for my mother, and she had a few choice
words for my father about keeping his eyes on the road. Dad turned
his head towards me, smiled, and winked before going to get the
shovel out a second time.
Mother was the artist in our family -- painting beautiful
landscapes using oils, acrylics and watercolors. Dad always said
that he did not have any talent at all when it came to drawing, but
he was always willing to draw two pictures for me.
One was of an outhouse with a little sliver of a moon above the
open door, and a stick figure running towards it. The other was the
side view of a face with a large hook-nose, and a long tongue
sticking out, trying to touch the tip of the nose, with "stuff"
dripping out of it!
When his grandson, Jack Jr., was around 5 or so, he would tie
grandpa up with yards of rope while he snored in his chair,
pretending to sleep. Jacky would then wake him up and grandpa would
struggle, grunting and groaning, to get out of the knots that were
tied around him. The game would then start all over again.
My sons, Alex and Eric, carried on that tradition years later,
as well as Logan, Jack Jr's son. Mummu (Finnish for grandmother)
would often arm the boys with a comb and brush so they could give
grandpa new hairdos. All the grandsons loved going into the sauna in
their basement with grandpa as well, where they would have "serious"
conversations, and see who could outlast each other in the steam bath.
Dad has also been a father figure to all three of his grandsons.
Jack Jr. would spend most of each summer with my parents at Nym
Lake, crying when he had to go back home to Winnipeg. Alex and
Eric's father died a few years after we had divorced, so dad has done
his best to give them pep talks every chance he gets, and to spend
extra time with them when they come to visit. (They still give him
'hairdos', by the way!)
My dad's own father abandoned his wife and children when they
were very young, so he grew up without a father figure. In spite of
that disadvantage, he has risen to the occasion again and again and
embraced fatherhood in every way possible.
If children had something to say to grandpa, he would give them
his animated, undivided attention, and listen -- as if what they had
to say was the most important thing in the whole world.
But if you ever crossed him, look out! I never once had a
spanking from my dad. It was never necessary. When angered, he
would lower his head and stare menacingly out from behind lowered
eyebrows. That was all it took! If our neighbors' children got a
little too rough when playing with us, they would say, "We'd better
watch out, or Mr. Kosola will 'look' at us!"
I have never once heard my father raise his voice or yell at
anyone. If anything, he talks quieter and slower when angered, but
his voice also deepens and he makes sure that he has your full
attention. He's as gentle and softhearted as they come, and rules
with his heart, not his hands.
We never wanted to disappoint him, but also knew that as long as
we tried our hardest that was all he would ever ask. We were safe in
knowing that dad's love was unconditional, and always would be. My
parents were always firm when it came to rules and curfews, but we
would much rather have their praise than to have dad 'look' at us!
I think dad has the longest "crow's feet" next to his eyes that
I've ever seen, and they're well earned! He has a way of making
people laugh, and children simply adore him. I've always respected
his integrity, honesty and openness.
I cannot imagine a childhood (or adulthood) without a father
like mine -- and I love him to pieces.
Happy Father's Day, Dad!
-- Ilona McEachern
==========================================================
>-->From Our Friend LouiseA :)
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> < | _ |( ) ( ) /'_ `\ > < | _ |( ) ( ) /'_ `\ > <
(_, ,_)| | | || (_) |( (_) |(_, ,_)| | | || (_) |( (_) |(_, ,_)
(_) (_) (_)`\___/'`\__ | (_) (_) (_)`\___/'`\__ | (_)
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>Hold Me
(By Steve Troxel)
When a young child wants to be held, they simply reach up their arms
and say, "Hold me!" Children may be hurt, scared, or tired; they may
not even know why they want to be held, but they know that spending
time in arms of love seems to make everything better.
And as a parent looks down at their child, they rarely evaluate them
to determine if they deserve to be held, or send them away to earn
affection. Rather, they simply pick up the child and hold them with
no words even being required. In truth, moments like this bring
parents some of their greatest joy!
Matthew 18:3
"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little
children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."
Our Heavenly Father loves us very much! He wants us to come to Him with
outstretched arms. He wants to pick us up and hold us tight. In truth,
moments like this bring His greatest joy! And yet, we spend most of our
days avoiding our Father's loving arms. We seek other forms of comfort
and work to earn our Father's affection. We pour our heart into
projects thinking they are vitally important to God's work; "Daddy,
look what I made for You!" But our best efforts are as grade school
pencil holders and disfigured flower pots. Our Father smiles at these
simple gifts but wishes we would understand.
There's much work to do for the Kingdom of God, but none more important
than loving and being loved by the One who has loved us since the
beginning of time; "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with
all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength" (Mark
12:30).
This can be a difficult concept for many who have not grown up with the
unconditional love and acceptance of an earthly father - but our Father
in Heaven is like none we've ever known. He created us for a
relationship of love and "gave His one and only Son" (John 3:16) so we
could be restored to the relationship which sin stole away. Let there
be no doubt of His love and His promise; "Never will I leave you; never
will I forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5).
He longs for us to return! Yes, we must clean our room, take out the
trash, and treat others nice on the playground - but at the end of the
day, His greatest desire is that we reach up with empty arms and say: I
love You Daddy...hold me!
---
...Awww, so wonderful! Thanks LouiseA!
We must not forget our God and Father this Father's Day!
Without His love, we have nothing in this world!
-<>-
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Mike Hertz
>"A bump in the road" ..... Remember that calloused statement?
I donít know the author of this poem. Received it today. Very thought
provoking and poignant. I do recall, however, the President referring
to the Benghazi incident as "a bump in the road."
Today I heard an ex-Navy Seal being interviewed on Fox News regarding a
book he has written about how to handle crisis situations
in our lives.
At the end of the interview he asked if he could make a comment on
Benghazi and of course the anchor said yes.
He then thanked Fox News for keeping the Benghazi story in the
news, since other news organizations are not. He said the Seals
who died deserve the public knowing the truth about the whole
affair.
The poem was written by a MARINE CORPS Officer (unknown).
>THE BATTLING BOYS OF BENGHAZI.
We're the battling boys of Benghazi
No fame, no glory, no paparazzi
Just a fiery death in a blazing hell
Defending our country we loved so well.
It wasn't our job, but we answered the call,
Fought to the Consulate and scaled the wall.
We pulled twenty Countrymen from the jaws of fate
Led them to safety, and stood at the gate.
Just the two of us, and foes by the score,
But we stood fast to bar the door.
Three calls for reinforcement, but all were denied,
So we fought, and we fought, and we fought 'til we died.
We gave our all for our Uncle Sam,
But Barack Obama didn't give a damn.
Just two dead seals who carried the load
No thanks to us.........we were just "Bumps In The Road".
So will this reach every American with a computer? Or do we act like
the press and give a pass to the incompetent people who literally sat
there in the White House and watched the Seal's execution on live
streaming video and did absolutely nothing?
The Obama Administration obviously won't be held accountable because we
apparently accept Hilary Clinton's statement,
"What difference does it make?"
---
...So Sad. Brings tears to my eyes. Thanks LouiseA!
May God Bless them and their families!
====================================================
>-->From Archives InspiredBuffalo:
>Selfless Intercession
by Tim Hall
David McCullough in his biography of Teddy
Roosevelt shines an impressive light on the
president's father. Theodore, Sr. ("Thee," as he
was known) undertook an endeavor during the Civil
War in which he successfully lobbied for an
Allotment System. Under this plan, soldiers from
New York regiments could send some or all of their
earnings back home to their families, easing some
of the suffering on the home front. For months
Thee and others traveled on horseback among the
Union camps, explaining the program and receiving
funds from the soldiers.
One might think, "Theodore Roosevelt, Sr. must
have gained a great deal of wealth through this
plan." But he didn't. He was not paid a single
penny for his time and the risk he undertook. His
actions were entirely selfless, devoted to helping
the struggling families of Union soldiers.
-<>-
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/ _(c\ .-. __
| / / '-; \'-'` `\______
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| \`""`__-/ .'--/ /--------\ \
\\` ///-\/ / /---;-. '-'
jgs (________\ \
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>A DREAM
By: Joseph J. Mazzella
I had a wonderful dream last night. It was one of those powerful
dreams that come when you are half-way between waking and sleeping. It
was also one of those special dreams that stick in your mind and stay
in your heart.
In the dream I was just a boy again walking through the woods near
my Grandmaís home where we all lived together. I came out near one of
our big gardens and saw my dad with two, large water buckets watering
the plants. I asked him if I could help and he smiled and handed me one
of the buckets. It was full of water but light as a feather. The water
inside was so crystal clear that it glowed in the sunshine. I
immediately started watering the field of wilted plants. The work that
I had always hated seemed a joy to me this time. The bucket stayed full
too no matter how much I poured. I laughed and smiled as I watered each
plant. Some plants sprung back to life with the first drop and seemed
to grow a foot almost instantly. Others needed a lot of water and
barely grew an inch. Still other plants seemed to shake off the water
and stay wilted no matter how much I poured. After a long time watering
I looked up and was saddened by what I saw. The garden had grown so
big. It seemed to stretch on forever in every direction. I looked over
at my dad in despair and told him that there was no way I could ever
water all of it. My Dad just smiled back and said not to worry because
there were plenty of Children to help. When I looked back I saw that He
was right. Over the endless garden there were thousands of boys and
girls with buckets each pouring the life giving water on the thirsty
plants.
I woke up after that, but I didnít need Sigmund Freud to tell me
what this dream meant. God was just reminding me to keep pouring out
His love and light to this thirsty world. It is a lifetimeís work, but
there are plenty of us with light heats and full buckets ready to do it.
-<>-
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m1a |
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>Dazzling
Jean Fleming
I read of a phosphorescent spider in South Africa that attracts
its prey with dazzling light. This spider flashes bright, beautiful
light and moths keep coming toward it until they are devoured.
That sounds like sin doesn't it? Sin can fascinate us, thrill us
and woo us until we too, like the moth are destroyed. It dazzles, then
destroys.
James 1:5 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to
all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.
Don't let sin trap you into a lifestyle that will ultimately
destroy you. Stay away from the flashing, dazzling light of sin that
will entangle you with actions and the guilt those actions carry.
When we are entangled with sin we cannot hear God and receive His
blessings. Repent and break the power of sin.
Father we pray for discernment so that we may see sin for what it is
and not be attracted to it no matter how dazzling it may appear. In
Jesus Christ's name we pray. Amen.
-<>-
>Links for Your Enjoyment:
Believe In Your Dreams
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/poems/dream.html
What Is 'Slain In The Spirit'?
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/slaininthespirit.html
ARE ANGELS REAL?
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/angelsreal.html
Playing With Food 4
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/food4.html
Making A Baby
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/makeababy.html
Junkyard Art
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/junkart.html
Japan's Manhole Cover Art!
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/japanart.html
Amazing Horse Trainer
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/horsetrainer.html
-<>-
>From Our Friend Karen :)
REAGAN'S LAST WORD
A thriller about an America fundamentally transformed. An America
where liberty has died And tyranny rules. In 1976, at the RNC
convention, warned us this day was coming.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WP8mvElh8Fg
---
...Sweet! Thanks Karen!
-<>-
>From Our Friend Linda :)
I know some people who cannot differentiate left from right.
I wonder if he could train them.
Jumpy The Dog
http://www.youtube.com/embed/5I_QzPLEjM4?rel=0
---
...LOL! Thanks Linda!
-<>-
>From Our Friend Geniann :)
Be sure to watch this on the largest computer screen you have (HD if
possible) and have your sound turned on.
The hummingbird doing rolls chasing a bee is not to be missed.
Be sure and watch closely (around 2 min 40 sec) and check out the baby
bat under its mother. Unreal.
The monarch butterflies are amazing!!!
If you never knew what goes on in the garden when you aren't paying
attention, watch this - some of the finest photography you will ever
see.
This is a good video to show kids.
http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/xHkq1edcbk4?rel=0
---
...Love It! Thanks Geniann!
Visit Melissa's Online Store
You can get anything you want (except for Melissa ) at
the online store
http://pdhomes.net/mall/babylissa/mySTORES/ISELL4.html
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>--->BEING DAD AND BEING THERE
by Joseph Walker
It would be something of an overstatement to say that I played
on the school basketball team in junior high.
I was on the team. I practiced with the team. I wore the black
and white uniform. Yes, color HAD been invented by this time --
black and white were our school colors... or absence of colors, as
the case may be of the mighty Millcreek Mustangs.
I ran out on the floor and did lay-ups before the game started,
then I sat on the bench and waved a towel and cheered for the guys
who were actually going to play in the game. And when we won, I
hugged cheerleaders and Pep Club members, who seemed to like hugging
me because I wasn't all sweaty.
As far as I was concerned, it was a pretty good arrangement. I
enjoyed the camaraderie with the players, the workouts kept me in
shape, I had a great seat for all of the games and I got a number of
exuberant post-game hugs from Heidi Van Ert, who was the president of
the Pep Club and the object of my 9th grade affections. But I didn't
feel any of the pressure that comes with knowing that the outcome of
the game may rest on your bony adolescent shoulders.
I don't know how my Dad felt about my bench-warming status. We
never talked about it. In retrospect, I imagine it was hard for him.
Dad was a gifted athlete. He played basketball and ran track in
college. He was fast and strong and he could jump like a kangaroo --
at least, that's what it says in his news clips.
By the time I was old enough to play ball with him he was well
into his 50s and wasn't moving like he used to. But he could still
kill me in games of H-O-R-S-E with a two-handed set shot that he
could hit from half-court -- time after time after time.
Two of my older brothers were high school sports stars, and the
third was an important part of a college basketball team that won the
NIT championship (OK, he was the equipment manager - he still
received an NIT championship ring that he wore until the day he died.)
Dad was used to going to games to watch his sons PLAY. I'm not
sure how he felt about going to games to watch his son SIT. And
cheer. And wave a towel. And, hopefully, hug.
Still, Dad was always there in his suit and tie, usually
standing in a corner of the gym, leaning against the wall. I'd make
eye contact with him during pre-game lay-ups -- it would've been
uncool to smile or wave. And then I forgot about him until after the
game -- and the hugging -- when he'd come up to me and smile and
shake my hand and tell me, "Good game!"
Even though I never actually did anything to make the game good.
Until the last game of the season.
We were playing our arch-rivals, the South Davis Redmen (OK, so
maybe we didn't have actual colors for school colors -- at least our
mascot wasn't politically incorrect). It was a great day for the
Mustangs, as we galloped off to a big lead. We were up by about 20
with two minutes to play when coach finally felt comfortable enough
to look toward my end of the bench.
"Walker!" he barked. "You're in!"
The next two minutes are still kind of surreal to me. I
remember running up and down the court a few times. I remember
getting a rebound on defense and then running up the floor as the Pep
Club starting counting down the last seconds of the game. I remember
hearing them yell "5!" just as Mark passed the ball to me. I
remember hearing the guys on the bench behind me shouting "Shoot!" as
I faced the basket -- and shot. I remember watching the ball bounce
off the backboard and through the hoop as the buzzer went off. I
remember hearing everyone scream and yell like I had just won the
game even though it just meant that we won by 22, not 20.
And I remember wondering what to do.
I mean, I knew what to do when we won a game while I was sitting
on the bench. But I was completely unprepared for what to do when we
won a game and I had hit a last-second shot -- meaningless though it
may have been.
Instinctively, I looked for Dad. And he was there, where he
always was, smiling at me as he always did. And somehow that helped
-- just knowing he was there -- and I came back to my senses in time
to give a sweatier-than-usual hug to Heidi.
For the next 35 years that was always the case -- not the
"sweaty hug" part, but the "Dad was there" part.
Through good times and bad, Dad was always there to smile, to
encourage, to support and to love. I came to depend on that, even
toward the end of his life when smiling was about all that he could
do. It helped to know that, no matter what, Dad was there.
And now I'm the one who is in my 50s struggling to keep pace
with a teenage basketball player in my family. I think about Dad on
Father's Day or whenever I'm tempted to NOT be there for my children.
To be honest, I'm not as good at it as Dad was. But I keep
trying because I know how much it can mean for Dad to be there when
you hit that big shot.
Or especially when you don't.
--Joseph Walker
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-Roland
>Wisdom in Seventeen Words Story Editor:
by William Lifsey Joyce Schowalter
North Carolina, USA
In the mid-1980's I was Captain of a B-747 flying from Newark, New
Jersey to Los Angeles. One flight, as usual, I went downstairs to greet
and thank the First Class passengers and there, in the very front row,
was Mohammed Ali, ex heavy weight boxing champion of the world. He had
been to a Parkinson's clinic and was returning home.
I had boxed in college and the Navy and was tremendous fan of his. The
first time I saw him on TV he fought Floyd Patterson. Patterson kept his
hands next to his cheeks, an excellent defensive position to protect his
face and prevent being knocked out, but a rather weak offensive
position. Ali fought with his hands at his waist while he literally
danced in and out and around his opponent. It wasn't a traditional
boxing stance.
I told him I knew he was an extraordinary fighter when he was able to
throw a punch from his waist and hit Patterson in the face before
Patterson could close his hands to protect himself.
After I spoke, there was an awkward pause. I wasn't sure if Ali had
heard me, and I was debating whether to move on or repeat myself -- then
his face lit up with a smile. Apparently the Parkinson's had caused a
short circuit. The Champ was standing up in front of his seat when I
spoke. He put his hands up in a mock boxing stance, started to shuffle
his feet back and forth and proclaimed, "I was smoking, I was smoking."
Hours later I went down to First Class again, and the aide traveling
with Ali told me the Champ wanted to speak with me. He asked about my
boxing history and our conversation soon turned to our families. We both
loved our children and our families greatly. He asked what the worst
part of my job was.
I told him the job itself was perfect for me because I literally loved
to fly, but I didn't enjoy being away from home during holidays, missing
birthdays and special events. In fact, on that trip I was missing a Cub
Scout camping trip with our son. He inquired more about the camping trip
and our son's name.
Shortly after we arrived at the gate in LA, there was a knock on the
cockpit door. It was Ali's aide with a gift for our son, a signed 8.5 by
11 inch photo of Ali. The Champ had written a message to our son on the
photo: "The time your father spends away from home, is the price he pays
for service to others".
During 30 years with the airlines I had many pleasant experiences and
many lessons about the generosity and kindness of people from around the
world. But 10 years into retirement, what I remember most are Mohammed
Ali's stories about his love for his family, and his kindness toward our
son.
=======HeroicStories=======
>-->From Kidwarmers:
|`-._
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.--------------------------------..-.. _ .-'\ | /o\ | \\\
|\ ________________________________\\ \\\/ \\ | | ///\
| | __ __ _ __ __ _ __ __ __ ||-||| '. \/ //////|
| | |__|__/_\ |__|__|_| |__|__|__| || ||| ///////|
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| | |__|__|_/ |__|__ _ |__|--'__ | . || \'..'/////////
| | |__| |__|__|_| |__|__|__| |( )|| `--`///////;
\| | ' ||---. ,,,////////////
jgs'---------------------------------'---' `.//////////////'
```=///////=
>THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Tim, the father of three, was lying on the sofa, exhausted after
a hard day's work and taking it easy because he had hurt his knee.
"I am feeling really old," Tim told Andrew, 5. "Not me!" Andrew said
brightly. "I'm feeling brand new!"
Dustin, 3, told his mother that when he grows up his name will
change. "No it won't," his mother said. "Yes, it will," Dustin
said. "What will it be?" his mother asked. "Daddy!" Dustin replied.
(So far, Dustin's name has not changed!)
Not long after the close of the World Series, Christopher, 7,
was still eating and breathing baseball. One night his father, Dave,
wanted to see how Christopher would do reading the "Good News Bible."
Dad was proud as Christopher began, "This is a list of the ancestors
of Jesus Christ, a des... des... " Christopher couldn't pronounce
"descendant" so he blurted out, "Jesus Christ... a designated hitter!"
__...__
.--""``` ```""--.
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After Grandpa died the little Jeremy went with his mother to put
flowers on the grave. Jeremy said his favorite toy was the wooden
rifle Grandpa had made for him. Jeremy's mother said Grandpa was in
heaven. She held Jeremy's hand and said softly, "I miss you,
Grandpa. And I love you." Jeremy looked at his mom and smiled. Then
he cupped both hands around his mouth and yelled at the grave,
"THANKS FOR THE GUN, PAPA GEORGE. I REALLY LIKE IT A LOT!"
On a hot summer day Fred took his son Barry, 3, for a bike ride.
On the way home Barry was too tired for the return uphill and he
asked his father to carry him AND the bike. His father said Barry
would have to walk and push the bike himself. "But you're a
psychologist," Barry said. "You're supposed to HELP people!"
When Miko was 4 (he is 6 now), his mother's "mum" took him to
the mall with her friends. He was following Ursula's "mum" until she
wanted to buy something and asked him to stay for a while with her
friends. One of her friend made sure that Miko wouldn't go anywhere
by holding his hand. Later Miko whispered, "Grandma, I think she
stayed too long in the bathtub, because her skin wrinkles." -- Ursula
of Jakarta, Indonesia
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.-"""-. ||::::::==========
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^^~ `""" `""" ~^^^~^^~~~^^^~^^^~^^^~^^~^
When Jeff was a little boy and his mother told him she was going
to a "Tri Kappa meeting" he told her he thought she was going to a
meeting to try on hats! -- Barb Davis (mother of Jeff) of
Kendallville, Indiana (Note: Tri Kappa is a women's club in Indiana.)
Aliyah, 5, was driving with her mother in the country and saw
some bulls grazing in a field. Aliyah asked, "Mom, do bulls have
gutters?" -- Destiny Renkenberger (mother of Aliyah) of Kendallville,
Indiana
Koen, 4, is playing T-ball and loves to go to the local
Greensboro Grasshoppers baseball games. He refers to the players as
"baseball mans." Koen and his daddy had been having batting practice
in the back yard, when they were called in for lunch. After
finishing his hot dog, Koen asked, "Daddy, will you come back outside
and throw the ball at me." -- Dennis Smith (Koen's PawPaw) of Oak
Ridge, North Carolina
___
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TerryAnn has a very thick New Orleans accent, even after not
living there for 30 years. She was taking vitamins and her
granddaughter asked if she could have one. TerryAnn had bought some
new children's vitamins and she gave her one, the color of her
choice. The little girl looked at it, confused, because it was not
the usual gummy bear. "What do I do with this?" she asked. "Chew
it," TerryAnn said. As TerryAnn was putting the vitamins back in the
cabinet she could hear her granddaughter going, "Aaahh, choo. Aaahh,
choo," blowing on the vitamin! -- TerryAnn Fielding of Brandon,
Mississippi
Here's another story from TerryAnn. Gabby received a dog for
her third birthday. She heard wild giggling from the kitchen and
found Gabby laughing because the floor had a spot on it from the dog
having an accident. Gabby said, "Odie did it. He pee-peed. Odie
needs a diaper!" Later TerryAnn caught Gabby trying to put a diaper
on the dog!
Sophie, 5, is definitely not a morning person. One morning she
was admonished for being very mean to a family member. Sophie threw
a monster tantrum which resulted in a "time-out" in her bedroom.
From behind the bedroom door she could be heard to say, "I cannot
help it if I am not a morning person. God made me this way!" --
Johanna Methot (Oma to the grandchildren) of Peterborough, Ontario,
Canada
_.---._
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Here is another Sophie story. The weather in Ontario has been
as odd as in the rest of the continent. One night Kathy, Sophie's
mom, googled "Earth" on the computer and showed Sophie and her little
brother Jacob where Peterborough is on the globe. They wanted to see
more, and were quite fascinated with the arctic regions, "where it
is really cold." The next day Sophie left her spring jacket in the
car as they were dropped off at the sitter's. Kathy brought it to
her and said, "You will only need it for school." Sophie took this
to mean something quite different than intended. When Kathy picked
her up she said, "I was the only little girl in the WHOLE school to
wear my jacket in class. I was the only little girl in the WHOLE
world to wear a jacket -- me, and the people in Antarctica."
Isaiah, 3, wanted some ice cream but it was only 10 a.m. so his
mother told him he would have to wait. So he took a different
approach. Isaiah gently put his mother's face in his hands and began
to sing, "You are so beautiful, to me." (He really enjoys watching
the Little Rascals movie). -- Irma Cisneros (mother of Isaiah) of
Phoenix, Arizona
Ember, 2, went to church with Gram and Granddaddy. She went
down to help with the penny march, which is where all the children go
to the front of the church, hear a short Bible story and then walk
around with a cup collecting pennies from people. Granddaddy was
sitting at the end of the pew and when Ember came back to sit down,
she said "Move!" Gram gasped and said "Ember RaeAnn!" Ember quickly
said, in a sweet voice, looking like a little angel, "Excuse me,
please!" -- Gram of Lufkin, Texas
_____
.'.---.'.
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When Brian was 8, after hearing the second verse of "Amazing
Grace" (Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already
come...) he asked his father, "What is a toilet snare?" -- James Tew
(father of Brian) of Kendallville, Indiana
==========================================================
.-""-._
/ ___/ \ _&_
_.--""|/ `\| // \\
.' ( ^/ ^ )'. / / \ \
/ | _ | \ // / \ \\
| _\____/ | /_/_/_\_\_\
| .' \____/-._ | .-"-.
| / `; /# \
| / / _|_.---\ | |
|.-.; :--.-(_/.____/.-""\___/"-.
/ \ / ~~/ /\ \{"=.______.="}
/--. ; /___/_~~/ ; .--\"=...__...="}
/ \-/ `\______|/ \-.______..-;
| /`| | \ | |||| ||
| /_ | |_______/ | |||| ||
| \_/| |-------' |--'||'--._||
| | | | || |>
|______| |____________|._ || _..-;|
| [___] | `||() ||
|______ |\/|____________|jgs|| ()
(__) \__/ (__) ()
>-->Shoulders
There's a comforting thought at the close of the day,
When I'm weary and lonely and sad,
That sort of grips hold of my crusty old heart,
And bids it be merry and glad.
It gets in my soul and it drives out the blues,
And finally thrills through and through.
It is just a sweet memory that chants refrain;
I'm glad I touched shoulders with you.
I am glad that I live, that I battle and strive,
For a place that I know I must fill.
I am thankful for sorrows. I'll meet with a grin,
What fortune may send good or ill.
I may not have wealth. I may not be great,
But you know I shall always be true.
For I have in my life that courage you gave,
When I once rubbed shoulders with you.
-- author unknown
>Updated FUN STUFF URLS - Oh Yeah Shangy!
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-->FULL LENGTH - FREE On line AUDIO MP3 Christian Foundational Class
http://www.truthortradition.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=61
NEW LIFE IN CHRIST!
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You guessed it - Recipes. These are Tried and True, Yummy to the Tummy,
good old fashioned home cooking recipes that are EASY to do
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